


What You Wish For

by nwhepcat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-24
Updated: 2003-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nwhepcat/pseuds/nwhepcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of the Gentlemen's spell, Xander is looking for some meaningful talk and a purpose in life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Wish For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yindagger (Yinagain)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Yindagger+%28Yinagain%29).



> Written for YinDagger, who won it in an Oscars-prediction contest. Thanks to betas Herself, Ludditerobot and Juliaabra!
> 
> Spoilers for s4 BtvS "Hush" and s1 AtS "Hero."
> 
> Disclaimer:These characters belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy and a bunch of other folk. No copyright infringement is intended and zip profits were made from the writing of this fic.

Xander clutched his messenger bag closer and made himself as compact as possible. Not easy to do, as gangly as he was. This bus ride, like the one that got him to L.A., would never end.

  
Why hadn't anyone told him bus travel was a sure way to meet every weirdo on the planet? Oh -- maybe because he hadn't told anyone he was doing this. He wondered if anyone would miss him over the next couple of days. Buffy and Willow were completely consumed with finals before Christmas break, so, no, not really. Giles might notice his absence like a toothache that was suddenly gone. His parents? His old man would miss having someone to push around, is all.

  
Well, okay. Anya would miss him. Funny how he hadn't told her he was going to Old Girlfriendville. Because she'd have asked why, and he wouldn't have had an answer. He didn't know why, but he knew he had to see Cordy. She had been used to being Queen C in Sunnydale, but this was a whole different place. He wanted to be sure she was okay.

  
Xander hummed quietly to himself. He did that a lot, these last few days since the Gentlemen. Just proving to himself that he could, that he wasn't voiceless. "Yeah," he said under his breath. He'd been doing that a lot lately, too. Well, he wasn't the only person on this bus talking to himself. At least he didn't smell.

  
When the bus driver told him it was his corner, he stepped down onto the L.A. sidewalk. It felt different under his feet, though he couldn't have explained what it was. He looked up at the brick building, his heart doing a sickening dance in his chest. No way he should be here, walking into Angel's lair. But this was where Cordy worked. Love to know how _that_ had happened. Well, if she was the receptionist, he'd see her first, maybe miss Angel altogether. "Yeah," he said softly. That would be good.

  
Serious funky smell in the hallway -- Xander did _not_ want to know what that was. He climbed up the stairs until he found the right door and opened it just a crack. There was a guy behind the desk tipping a bottle of something amber into a mug of coffee. Young guy, though older than Xander, wearing a lime-green patterned shirt not even _he_ would wear on his worst laundry day. Xander was about to back out of the door when the guy's eyes pinned him like one of those butterflies at the museum. Pale blue, like a high summer sky. Intense. Sad in a way Xander hoped he never came to know.

  
"If you're looking for Angel Investigations, you've found the right place." He had an accent of some kind -- Irish, Xander thought, but he wasn't very good at these nuances.

  
"Actually, I'm looking for Cordelia Chase."

  
"Just missed her." The man didn't seem to be speaking to Xander. He focused on him again, twitched a smile. "She'll be back soon. Have yourself a cup of coffee while you wait." He shoved the bottle across the desk toward Xander.

  
Usually, Xander had to work the fake ID to get any of the amber liquids. He splashed a liberal amount in a cup, topped it up with coffee, and took a seat.

  
"Oh, sorry. Doyle." Okay, yeah. Irish.

  
"Harris. Uh, Xander."

  
"Oh, so _you're_ \--" Doyle abruptly cut himself off.

  
"She's mentioned me?"

  
"A time or two."

  
He practically twitched with the urge to ask what she'd said. On the scale of uncool, though, that pretty much went to eleven. "So. Angel Investigations. What does he investigate?"

  
The eyes flicked away from him, which was a relief. "Oh, your standard. Divorce cases. Insurance fraud surveillance --"

  
"I'm from Sunnydale."

  
"Demon possessions, hauntings, human sacrifice."

  
Xander nodded. "The standard. So it's not just the Hellmouth."

  
"The city, ya know. Attracts all sorts. Vampires. Demons. Agents."

  
"Oh, yeah, I heard Cordelia came to break into the movies." He tried to picture Cordy in the same room with this Doyle. Would she think he was handsome? Not that Xander really paid attention to other men, but Doyle struck him as having that good-looking-but-doesn't-know-it vibe. It was the intensity, the pale blue eyes. Based on the shirt, Cordy for sure would think he was a fixer-upper. God help this guy if she ever took him on as a project.

  
Doyle nodded. "In fact, she's out on an audition right now. I'm covering for her. Is she expecting you, then?"

  
"Well, no. I didn't know if she'd see me if she knew. We had kind of a bad breakup." Xander was fairly certain he hadn't meant to say that. Maybe he'd better ease off on the Irish coffee.

  
"She's fairly brassed off with me right now as well," Doyle said. "I gave her a gift that didn't exactly suit."

  
"Presents are tricky with Cordy. I once gave her one she loved, and she turned around and broke up with me."

  
"This was sort of what's called a re-gift here."

  
"You poor bastard." Xander laughed abruptly, embarrassed. "Sorry. I think I need to lay off this." He carefully set his mug on the desk.

  
"No, I think you're right," Doyle said, his voice mournful. An awkward silence descended between them, until Doyle asked, "You graduated with Cordy, then?"

  
"I really don't know."

  
Doyle gave him a comically puzzled look, but the eyes were still piercing somehow.

  
"What I mean is, all my friends have gone on to something new. College, most of them. Cordelia's working on her acting career. I feel like I'm ... stuck." Why, exactly, was he babbling like this? Maybe it was the air of sympathetic attention Doyle gave off. Xander tried to remember when anyone last seemed to take him seriously. Or maybe it was still the after-effect of the Gentlemen's spell. Not in any mystic way, but he'd noticed when Sunnydale got its collective voice back how much of what people said was meaningless. Hell, he'd probably never see this guy again, so what was to stop him from telling the truth? "My friends have these shiny new lives, and I'm living in my parents' basement, trying to set a land speed record for getting fired from the most crap jobs. If anything, things are worse than before." He finally found the off switch for his mouth, way way way too late. "Sorry. You don't want to hear this."

  
"No, I know just what you mean. In a way, I graduated fairly recently myself. You think everything will fall into place, that you're somehow a new man. But it all takes some getting used to."

  
"Everyone I know has a purpose, you know? Everyone but me. I just want to know what I'm here for, what I'm supposed to be doing. I want a purpose."

  
Doyle rose to pour himself another cup of coffee, then perched on the edge of the desk. Nailed Xander with that gaze. "Be careful what you wish for."

  
"So I've been told." This guy was awfully good at pumping him for this stuff -- he _wasn't_ a vengeance demon, was he?

  
Doyle looked at his wrist -- which had no watch, Xander noticed. "If you don't mind waiting by yourself, I've an errand to run. We've got some magazines over there. This year's, even."

  
"Oh. Well, is Angel -- do you think he'll be back?"

  
"Cordy'll be here any moment." He thrust out his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Xander."

  
"Same here." Doyle's hand was surprisingly warm, but dry. He held Xander's longer than was strictly comfortable, in a two-guys-alone-in-a-room sort of way. Then he was gone.

  
Xander had barely settled in with a magazine -- and a January's _People_ _did_ qualify as this year's, he supposed -- when Cordelia bustled into the office, slinging an enormous leather bag onto the desk. Then she noticed Xander sitting in the room and barely suppressed a shriek. " _Jeez_. Sneak up on me, why don't you."

  
She looked so different. Wearing clothes no longer appeared to be a competitive sport -- she had on white pants, a skimpy top, sandals that still probably cost more than he made in a month, but didn't really look it.

  
She looked like hell.

  
Not because of the outfit, but because she'd clearly been crying. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands before turning to him. "Xander. What are you doing here?"

  
He gracelessly rose to his feet. "Cordy. Hi. What's the matter?"

  
Cordy took two steps toward him, planted a hand on either side of his face and laid a very deliberate kiss on his lips. To his surprise, Xander felt some of the old spark -- to be completely honest, _more_ than the old spark.

  
She released him and studied him intently for a moment, then broke into that dazzling Cordelia smile he hadn't seen in such a long time. "Xander, you have no idea how glad I am to see you."

* * *

End What You Wish For by nwhepcat:  
[nwhepcat@yahoo.com](mailto:nwhepcat@yahoo.com)

See author and story notes above.


End file.
